


Half And Half Affair / The Beginning

by Fyffy



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Feelings, Gay, Homosexual, LGBTQ, Love, Multi, female impersonation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyffy/pseuds/Fyffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 1 - 5 of 16</p><p>Pages: 25<br/>Words: 9.903<br/>EDITED 2nd VOLUME<br/>finished Chapter<br/>Written: October 4, 2013<br/>Genre: Fanfiction/ Names changed!<br/>Certified: NSFW<br/>COPYRIGHT © by Fyffy</p><p>There are 3 different chapters for the beginning of Half And Half Affair ("HAHA").<br/>What you read is the second Volume, already edited, and the one I chose to use.<br/>I will be uploading the other's on request.</p><p>Terry and Ricky are best friends. Around the same time they each get to know someone without knowing that the men who appeal to them know each other and have many a secret hidden from them. Once they find out, it is up to all 4 parties to fight against society, prejudice and most of all fear from rejection regarding the love that grows between them. They fight many perils on their ways to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half And Half Affair / The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> V1 = Volume 1 (original writings, unedited, old ideas, raw versions long before V2)  
> V2 = Volume 2 (written much later as new ideas popped up - V2 is mostly the edited version of V1)  
> (…)** = Written material that I never used cuz I never liked it.

**A slim, tall man with near-shoulder length hair stood outside a grotty office and puffed on a cigarette.**

His name was George.

George had grown up in Scotland but came to England as a young man accompanied by his brother. His aspirations of being a concert pianist hadn’t quite materialised and he now mostly worked as a computer programmer. That is, when he did any work at all. George threw his fag on the floor after taking one last puff. He straightened his tie -  **he bloody hated ties** \- and always looked like a schoolboy who didn’t quite manage to look neat and tidy. He never wore a blazer though his boss always ranted about that. He just wore a tie, a white shirt, black trousers, and his rather old, dusty coat. He opened the door to the building and nodded at the receptionist. Pushing the door open to his office, he took off his coat. Steve, his colleague of a few years, was just returning from the little office kitchen.

George nodded.

"Hey."  
"Coffee George?", he asked.  
"Hmm?" George had had a long night last night and his reactions were delayed by at least two seconds. "Oh, erm.. yeah, please."   
He put his hand on his forehead

Steve went into the staff-kitchen.

"Strong? Black? Milk?"  
"Yes. Oh, erm.. strong and black please… don’t happen to have any aspirin, do ya?"  
"Can’t ye go to the dispensary in the break…", Steve always used to phrase his answers like questions.

He was a strange guy.

"I can’t be boooothered.." George put his head down on the desk. He found this job so utterly tedious that it made any hangover feel ten times worse. "Hey," he muttered into the desk "Is twatface in yet?"

By ‘twatface’ he meant their boss, Mitchell… Stuart Mitchell.

"We’ve got Michael today ey…. Mitchell with double M", said Steve and sighed. Mitchel. was Stuarts brother, but the same twatface, honestly.

 **"Oh god… tweedledum instead of tweedledee."**  George groaned.  
"Ahhh weeell… ‘tis just 8 hours dea.. ", said Steve who brought the mug and put it on George’s desk.

George sat up a little and put his chin on his folded arms, which leant on the desk.  
"Thanks. Didn’t they say we’ve got someone new starting today?"  
"Yea.. ‘tis a gal as far’s I’m concerned."  
"Really? Poor cow, working in a place like this. Mitchell will grope her from 9 to 5."  
"Oh better, from 5 to 9. He said she’ll have to do the night-shifts as a start."  
"What?! That man is a sadist.." George moaned as his head throbbed again. "I on the other hand must be a masochist.." he remembered how much drink he willingly poured down his own throat the night before.  
"Remember George, we all had to do the nightshift the first time we worked here…"  
"I vaguely remember, yes.. I think I ended up building a tower with paperclips."  
"And ‘raping’ the safety pins…", sighed Steve and grinned.

**"That is between me and the safety pins!"**

George muttered as he sipped the disgusting coffee. The office would only buy the cheap crap. 

-

Mitchell looked at himself in the mirror as he smoothed down his overly-hairgelled hair. He looked like oil on a pizza.

-

A small person stood in front of the building. It was a girl named Terry. This was her first working day in the new Land she now lived in:  _ **England**_. Freshly she arrived from Stockholm just two weeks before. She was not tall, very slender, almost too slim one dare say. She grabbed into her handbag for her compact to check her face on last time. Make-up, how much she hated it. Lipstick and rouge;  **Disgusting!**  She wore a bra, just in case. Qualities always count, but the only problem was: She had none, concerning bra’s! She could hardly breathe. It was so exciting but the store itself looked pretty rotten. And it was settled in a side-street, so … nothing important really.

**As long as they’d pay her, she took anything!**

She breathed one last time, as she turned around and pushed the door open. The receptionist looked up as Terry entered. As small as the stupid business was, they kept a receptionist to make it look good. Mitchell’s idea.

"Can I ‘elp you, Miss.."  
"Hello I’m here for an application..uhm, my name is de Kowa."  
The receptionist scrunched her nose up.  
"Funny name that.. de Kowahhhh.. de Kowaaah.." she looked through her papers. "Ah yes..  come wiv mee…"   
She stood up and walked to Mitchell’s office as Terry followed nervously behind her. She knocked on the door.

 **”What?!!!!!”  
** "A Miss de Kowaaaahhhh to see you, Mr. Mitchell."

Mitchell took one last look in his mirror and smirked at himself.

"Ahhh… let her in.."

The receptionist opened the door and looked at Terry. She looked at the receptionist. The words that popped up her mind as she analyzed her face as shortly as she could were endless. She entered the room.  
"Ahhhh Miss de Kowaaa.. do take a seat.. " Mitchell pointed to the seat on the other side of his desk. She hated her name instantly. The seat was a little damaged. The polster was torn. She sat down. Mitchell grinned as he sat down the other side. His brother Stuart had interviewed Terry, but Mitchell always insisted on the last word in terms of hiring anyone. He straightened his tie.  
"I understand you saw my brother last time?"  
"Yes… er  Sir.", she was unsure what would expect her.  
He looked down at her application and details.  
"Well, Tereza.. may I call you Tereza? Well, Terezaaaa.." he continued without waiting for her answer. "How are you finding England?"

**She hated to be called Tereza! And she hated England for this man!**

"I love England."

Mitchel looked up and smiled a smile that would make cheese go bad.  
"Spleeeendid. It says here you’ve mostly worked as an interpreter?"  
"Yes .. I.. I am trained as Interpreter. I translate into different languages that is."  
"I wonder if you can translate the mumbling of our slow employees on a Monday morning? Haha! Haha!" he found himself hilarious and wiped away a tear of mirth.

Terry tried to follow his mouldy humour and forced herself to smile too. He put his feet up on the desk.  
"And what brings you to the world of computers, Tereza?"  
Her eyes widened as she saw the way he displayed himself in front of her. She had applied to many firms and shops in Sweden and Germany but no one ever put his feet on the table, … or wore a belt three sizes too small.

"The ad said they are looking for a secretary."  
"Yeees.." he leant forward a bit, and his belt cut into his very generous stomach. "Don’t tell Miss Ratbag out there but we’re letting her go. You’ll be taking over her job. Heh heh."  
The fact that she took over the job of someone who’d be unemployed as soon as she stepped out of the office didn’t hide the fact that >ratbag< was one of the greatest names she’d ever heard.

"Oh..", she said quietly.  
"Ah don’t worry, she’ll be fine. She’s shag… *coughsplutter* she’s dating the chief executive." he sat up. "Well, I don’t think I need ask you any more, Tereza, you seem perfectly capable of the job.. and my brother recommended you.." he looked at her with a smirk  
"Oh did he", she tried to look as if she was flattered but it was hard not to look at the way the belt ate itself into his stomach.  
"Yeees, he did.." Mitchell stood up with a rather unattractive groan. "Well, we might as well get you started right away." he held out his hand for a handshake

**That phrase was not very charming: This guy would be the last to get her started. She held out her small hand as well.**

Mitchel cupped her hand into his sweaty, large hands. Not pleasant. Miss Ratbag, so called because no-one could remember her name and she was very much a ratbag, walked past the office with a cardboard box full of her belongings and glared at Terry. Terry tried to look at the ground or at least smile at the Ratbag but this would have ended in eyes being scratched out so she didn’t do it.  
 **"Well!"**  Mitchell exclaimed suddenly.  **"Let’s introduce you to your colleagues. Just two in today.. "**

Mitchell always tried to hide the fact that the business was tiny. There were only four employees in total and two of them hid away half the time.

"Yes, lovely." she said quietly.

-

George leant on the desk with his head in his hands and tapped at the computer keyboard in front of him. Steve was walking into the office with a pile of papers in his hands.  
"Gentlemeeeeen!" Mitchell said loudly. George didn’t blink, but Steve walked towards him like a good worker.  
"This is Tereza de Kowa, Steve. Tereza, this is SteveFlaherty."  
"Hello. Terry is fine.", she smiled and gave Steve her hand.  
Steve juggled his papers and smiled.  
"Then welcome Terry, hope you like it here!"  
"I hope so too.", she smiled.

Mitchell interrupted the nice meeting with a yell.

_**"MISTER LOWGIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"** _

George’s head slipped from his hands and he jumped out of his daydream.  
"What the..?! I mean.. Yes, Mr. M…"  
"This is your new colleague, George.."  
"Oh.."

George stood up and walked towards them. He looked at Terry for the first time. Not at all what he was expecting, but what was he expecting? He stood still as he stood next to Steve. There was something about this girl that he couldn’t quite grasp. He couldn’t help but smile as if they had already shared a naughty joke. He slowly held his hand out.

"I’m sorry, I.. " he smiled "I didn’t catch your name."  
"Terry.", she said a little unsure what to expect from  _him_  and looked at Mitchell as she held her hand out.  
"George.. Lowgin. Nice to meet you Terry." he smiled softly.

Mitchell smiled and patted Terry on the back. A bit too near her bottom.  
"I’ll let you get acquainted for a while." he walked away, whistling. George still held Terry’s hand. He leaned in a bit.  
 **"Welcome to Dante’s idea of heeell.. with computers!"**  he smirked.  
"Is this the fine English way?", she whispered back and smiled.  
"I’m Scottish." whispered George "And Steve is Irish, so the office is a bit unpredictable" he grinned as he let go of her hand.   
"Do you want the grand tour?"

 **"With you?"** , she stepped back and put her bag on the ground as she smirked at him.

 **"The graaaand tour.."** he grinned.

George walked over to his desk and picked up his coffee mug. “This is my desk.. this is a computer.. I do very little on this computer. That—” he pointed “is Steve’s desk, and he does a bit more work than I do. That—” he pointed at the kitchen “Is the kitchen, and that houses such culinary delights as ‘mouldy bread’ and ‘questionable cheese’ and most of all ‘disgusting coffee’.”  
"Oh I see and that…" she stepped to George "is a messy tie!", she pulled it closer to his throat.

He looked down at her and grinned.

**He liked her already.**

"The messy tie is almost always messy.. and perhaps the best part of the grand tour." he whispered.  
"Where do I work?"  
"Well, Mitchell, in all his wisdom, has just sacked the receptionist, so you’ll be working both in here and out there" he pointed to the entrance hall. "If someone enters, you must be nice and welcoming and bring them into our little hellhole.. otherwise, you sit at that desk there." he gestured.

She breathed deeply.

 _ **"Hallelujah"**_  she whispered.

"Ooh it’s heavenly..  sometimes we make little chains with the paperclips.." he put his mug back down on his desk. "I think they’re trying to slowly kill me with this coffee.."  
 _"AND SAFETY PINS!"_ , yelled Steve from his table.  
 _ **"THOU SHALT NOT MENTION THE SAFETY PINS!!!!!"**  _George yelled back.   
"Oh, and, the most exciting bit is that every week we have a bet as to what colour Mitchell’s wig will be this week. He has three, you see. Alternates once a week. But not.. in the same order."

Terry smirked about the openness with which she was introduced to all the lazy and unnecessary pastimes the man beside her and his colleague had. He talked to her like a good ol’ friend.

"I see…" she said.  
"We all put the money into this tin.. " it was marked  _'WWWIB”_  which stood for  _'Which Wig Will It Be?_ ’. “He thinks it’s money for the coffee.”

She covered her mouth. This guy was serious. George was amused at her horror.  
"Have to do something to pass the time.." he whispered. **“Right, Steve?”**  he yelled.  
 **"As long as it’s not raping the.."** , he stopped himself from mentioning the safety pins again.

George glared and put his hand through his hair. For a man who worked in an office, he had very long hair. Terry liked the way his hair fell down his shoulders. She had a small weakness for men with long hair. Her eyes studied him. George pulled at his tie a little. Terry had put it close to his neck and he was more aware of it. He looked at her.

"Would you like a coffee before you’re whisked away to start work?"  
She sighed at the thought to have to work in this hole from now on.  
"Yes thank you."  
"Steve, more coffee!" George yelled. It was a continued joke that Steve was always the coffee-maker for the whole office.

 **"Strong? Black? Milk"** , he yelled.  
"I’ve worked here for five years and you ask me that every tiiiime!"  
"I’m askin’ the Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaady!"  
"Oh!" he looked at Terry.  **"How do you take it?"**

She started to laugh and had to turn around.  _ **Where did she end up…**_  
"I take it easy… but sometimes rougher is what I need." she laughed out loud. Steve stepped out from the kitchen as he thought he heard something naughty. George burst into laughter as well and patted her back.

**"That’s niiiice…."**

—

**Old Compton Street.**

There weren’t many shops in the early 70s yet. But one shop has already been there since pre WW2. It was a barber shop. Now it turned into a hair salon. The people who lived there went to that shop when they were young, which meant that the average customers were old Ladies or Gentlemen today, which didn’t annoy the owner at all. He took this shop over from one of his family members, which meant he might have had a little Jewish blood inside him, but one couldn’t see that at all since he was blessed with golden curls.

His name was Patrick.

He loved cutting hair and he loved his regulars. The atmosphere was always very relaxed and chilly. He’d go out and buy magazines for them before they’d arrive at midday. Another advantage: He didn’t have to open before midday. This day though he opened much earlier because he had to close sooner to pick up his best friend, who - strange as it was - worked at a Computer and IT-store. The elderly Ladies loved Patrick!  _'You're just like my son with a touch of my daughter'_  they’d always say. They’d even bring him new aprons they made and insist he’d wear them. Which he did. And then there was that absolutely beautiful singing that he did whenever he cutted their hair. His voice was a gift by god.

"How do we like the new hair Mrs. Salebury?"  
"Oh looovely deaar, lovely.." Mrs. Salebury was as blind as a bat, she couldn’t see a thing. "I love the waves, dear, yes.. reminds me of a hairdo I had when I was a girl.."  
"We didn’t do waves today Mrs. Salebury. We did the washing and ironing today."

She was just a lovely Lady. She squinted at the mirror.

"Oh I seee, dear, yeees.."

Patrick’s assistant, a teenage boy who barely remembered his own name but came cheap, hovered nearby.  
"Bastie could you please sweep the floor while I am going to bill Mrs. Salebury?", asked Patrick.  
Bastie stood in his own world as he twirled his bubble gum with his finger.  
 **"SEBASTIAN!!"  
** Bastie jumped and grabbed the broom.  
"Yeeeh, yehhh.."

Patrick liked this boy but sometimes he hated himself for having hired him. He would have to shorten his salary.  
"Just the floor. I’ll do the rest then."  
"Right, Mr. Feiff.." Bastie moved slower than a lazy slug. Mrs Salebury looked through her handbag for her purse.  
"How much do I owe you, dear?"  
"Five will be fine Mrs. Salebury", he said while keeping an eye on Bastie.  
Mrs. Salebury opened her purse and took out a receipt she had mistaken for a five pound note.  
"Here you are, dear."  
"Nahh we don’t want that, you’ll need it for the doctor Mrs. Salebury. It’s a receipt. Let’s say three is fine. Three pounds."  
"Ooooh thank you dear.. now where did I put me coins.."

Patrick sighed because he would have loved to dismiss her and rather admonish Bastie to do different things. Bastie for once became a gentleman and walked up to the lady to help her.

"Theeere.. no, that’s a button Mrs. Salebury.. there, that’s a a coin.."  
"Now we just need three of them.", smiled Patrick.  
"Get your hand out of me purse!!" she slapped Bastie’s hand.  
"OW.."  
"Sebastian one doesn’t do that!! You better go behind the counter and STAY there! Count the money! Do stocktaking or something!"  
"But!!" Bastie sighed in exasperation and sat behind the counter. Mrs. Salebury put a coin, a button, and a mint down on the counter and waved goodbye.

Patrick exhaled and went through his hair in anger!

"The next time she comes here you say we’re closed! Understand?!"  
"Have you ever tried to stop that woman from doing something, Mr. Feiff?!"  
"Not until now. But there’s always a first time.", he sighed and went behind the counter. He dismissed Bastie for a cigarette as he saw that no one was waiting for anything and they were alone in the salon while Patrick did the stocktaking.

—

A young librarian munched an apple as she read a book while she sat at the front desk.

Her name was Ricky.

Ricky had had an upbringing much like any other upper class girl, but had followed her heart in terms of work, which annoyed her parents. She leaned towards the world of vintage and her appearance was that of a woman who shouldn’t still exist in the 1970s. Her long hair was piled into a loose bun at the back of her head, and her clothes were somewhere between 1910s and 1930s. She was quite slender but with a womanly shape, and she was moderately tall. She wore a hint of make-up and preferred quite plain colours.

“Oopffh..” Ricky realised she had spat apple on the library book and wiped it off. She looked up at the clock and sighed with relief as she realised it was only five minutes until she could leave work. She was quite excited; she’d planned for a haircut at a salon she hadn’t tried before. She hadn’t had her hair cut for about five years.

“Maaaud?” she called

**Maud didn’t reply. She was for the Lady’s.**

Ricky turned around to look for her. She turned back and took a hand mirror out of her bag and looked at herself in it. She still wondered if her haircut was a good idea.  
"Maaaaauuuudd?"  
Maud re-appeared.  
"You shouldn’t scream through the Library dear. I told you this is not adequate. I was just gone for the Lady’s.."  
"Sorry Maud.. before you go, please tell me - do you think a shoulder-length haircut would suit me?"

Maud was impartial. She would never decide for others and also didn’t know what to say to her question.  
"Well.. I don’t know. You must know that yourself."  
"I can only see my reflection; you can see my whole head!"  
"But I cannot …" she raised her hands.

Ricky looked at herself in the mirror again.

"I was sure this morning.. maybe I should cancel the appointment.. I don’t know.."  
"You shouldn’t cancel things you have already planned.", said the wise Maud.   
"Hmm" Ricky pondered. "I suppose not.. and it was so hard to get an appointment, the young man who answered the phone didn’t seem to know what he was doing!"   
She bit her lip.   
"Yes, yes, I will…" she looked up at the clock. "Ooh wonderful, my shift’s over!"

Maud looked at the clock too and sighed. She had to do another shift for Alice, the girl who’d never or hardly go to work. She rather decided to stay in wonderland.

Ricky closed her book and picked up her apple core. She patted the back of her hairdo and realised she’d miss that long hair.  
"What do you have planned for tonight, Maud?"  
"If I see a mad hatter I’ll head him!", she laughed and went behind the counter.

Ricky raised her eyebrow in confusion. She smiled as she realised Maud was referring to Alice.  
"Ahhh" she picked up her bag. "Alice gone down the rabbit hole again?"  
"This girl is useless here. I wonder why.. why.. yes why!"  
"She stills gets confused between ‘fiction’ and ‘non-fiction’." she put her bag on her shoulder. "Everytime she re-shelves some books I need to do it all again afterwards!"  
Maud sighed and leant on the counter.  
"Have a lovely afternoon dear. I’ll be thrilled to see your new hair soon."  
Ricky patted Maud on the arm.  
"Thank you Maud, I’m sorry I’m leaving you with all this!"  
"Now don’t waste time. I’ll be alright."

Ricky smiled and waved goodbye as she closed the main door.

—

Bastie sighed as he walked back in from having a cigarette.  
"Why do we only get old women here?"  
"Because the young generation lives in New London" said Patrick who still counted the money.

Bastie ran his hand through his hair.  
"Thought I’d meet some babes working at a hairsalon.. " he grabbed the broom again.  
Patrick gnashed his teeth.   
 **"Yeah.. well.. not in here!"**

**-**

Ricky pushed open the door to the salon as a blast of wind hit her again. Her hairdo finally went lopsided and she sighed in annoyance. As she stepped into the salon, the wind blew the door shut and trapped her skirt. She squealed at the sudden slamming of the door and pulled at it. She finally got it free and blushed as she kept her head down. She knew people must be staring at her; what a way to make an entrance. She straightened herself and put her hand on her hairdo and realised it was a total mess.   
“Oh well,” she thought “I’m getting it cut anyway.. “ she took out her hairclip and hairpins and let her long hair fall down her back.

Patrick was in the small kitchen while Bastie was at the reception.  
"Wow clientele I don’t beliiiieve it." said Bastie loudly.  
Ricky smiled nervously and put her hair behind her ears as she smoothed down her skirt and walked over to the counter.  
"Hello, erm, I have an appointment.. Miss Cartwright."  
"We’ve been waitin’ for ye, lovely." said Bastie who now chewed a chewing gum.

Ricky smiled in politeness. She looked around, the place was empty apart from her and this rather annoying boy. She felt mild regret.  
"Right, well, erm.. are you.. are you the hairdresser?" she couldn’t see anyone else.

The moment she said that she heard loud footsteps coming from somewhere in the back. They not only got louder but faster too. The door to the kitchen opened in a loud crack and Patrick literally fell onto the counter.  
 **"I told you NOT to address my customers with "LOVELY!"**  he ranted at Bastie while looking like a furious red shrimp.

Ricky jumped and put her hand on her chest. Her eyes widened. Yeah, she’d really picked the best place.(!) She dropped her bag and bent down to pick it up. She flicked her hair from her face and it flew back across her shoulders. Patrick turned around and looked ahead. No one to see. Where was the customer? He leant over the counter and saw Ricky.  
"Ohh wait Miss let me help you." he said and hastily ran around the counter to help. Ricky looked up and stood up slowly as she looked at Patrick.  
"I.. I’m fine, thank you"

Patrick looked at her for a moment and saw she was certainly not the >average clientele<.  
"My god. Lily Elsie in person." he smiled at her.  
Ricky put her hand on her chest again and laughed with surprise.  
"I think you’re possibly the first person I’ve ever met who knows who that is!"  
"Oh that is my secret pastime. Anything old, vintage and so on." he smiled. "So you’re my last customer for today. Shall we start?"

Ricky’s eyes widened with surprise. She looked at him for a moment longer as he went to the stool. Such an attractive, petite young man. Smile to make ones knees buckle. Not what she expected in a hairdresser. But then again… what did she expect?

"Y-yes, absolutely.." she put her hand on her hair and moved some of it over her shoulder. "It’s been quite a while since my last haircut.."  
"Take a seat and I’ll see what I can do about it.", he said softly leading her to her seat. As she sat down he flung a cape around her neck and started running his fingers through her hair. He didnt speak, he analyzed.  
"I was thinking of shoulder length with layers, but.." she watched him in the mirror. He was very pleasing to her eyes.  
"I think shoulder length would make your head appear like a moon." he said as he bent his head down to her height and spoke to her in the mirror. He turned her head and explained that the shorter she’d wear her hair, the thicker she’d appear.  
"Oh.. " she touched her chin.. surely her head wasn’t that big.. "Well, what do you suggest?"  
"Hmmmm" he put his arms around her while standing behind her, bent down and said "I’d make it longer than your shoulders but shorter than it actually is now, wash it, put a cure in, maybe put a wave on your fringe if you like or do it up and make you leave before 6." he smirked.  
"Which one makes my head less moon-like?" she grinned.  
"Both will look great on you." he assured her. "Don’t worry."

She turned her head towards him.

"Well I put my trust in you.. erm.." she realised she didn’t know his name.  
"I’m Patrick" he smiled.  
"Patrick." she smiled back. "I’m Ricky."  
"Hello Ricky, nice to meet you. Hope you’ll spread the word if you liked it here.", he smirked. He got up and turned towards Bastie. "Get the 500 and 430 please and.." he looked at the clock "..and go home!"

Bastie found it difficult to do more than one thing at once. He walked over to Patrick with what he had asked for and grinned at Ricky.  
"Hope we see you again.."  
"Yeeeesss…." said Patrick quietly and rolled his eyes. He’d not only do that sort of thing in his hair salon as she would soon find out. Ricky looked as Bastie winked at her in the mirror reflection and walked out of the door.

"He’s, erm.. interesting.."  
 **"He’s a brat!"**  said Patrick who started combing her hair to measure how much he’d cut off.

George and Steve were throwing bits of paper into the waste basket. The person who got the most bits of paper in won a chocolate bar.

"YES!" George exclaimed. "I beliiieve that chocolate bar is mine."

Terry got loads of folders to go through by Mitchell. She went from one room into another since almost an hour. No break in-between. George grabbed the chocolate bar, opened it and took a bite out of it. He walked over to Terry and spoke with his mouth full.  
"That lookths like a lot of stuffth"  
Terry was a person, who as soon as she did her work, did it properly. And George just spat little chocolate crumbs on the folders in front of her.  
"Could you please let me work?", she turned around. Her temper was it who made all her friends leave when she needed them as a child. They never understood that Terry was ahead of their age. She wanted to be independent and show others her sense of responsibility.  
"Hmmph, suit yourself.." George turned and coughed as half of the chocolate went down the wrong tube.  
She dropped her pencil and clapped George’s back. George coughed violently then wheezed.  
"Th-thaaaank you.. AHEEEM.." he spoke with a whisper. "Much better.."  
She sat him down on her seat and offered him her water bottle. He hesitated to take it, wondering if she’d mind his spittle on her bottle.  
"You should drink something then it flows better."  
He gently took the bottle off her and took a small swig, taking care not to wet the top too much with his mouth. He swallowed.  
"Thank you, that’s helped." he smiled  
"Really? That wasn’t a huge gulp though. Should still tickle in your throat. You better take another one.", she cared. She wasn’t a monster. Whenever there has been someone in her life who needed help or she saw she could help, she did.  
"You sure? I don’t want to contaminate your bottle too much.."  
"Tsssss", she leant against the table like a boss herself, folding her arms and having a grin on her face "That bit of your contamination won’t kill me"

He smiled cheekily.

"We’ll seee.." he took another, bigger swig and held the bottle out. "Thanks. That’ll teach me to speak with my mouth full."  
"I hope so" she smiled and took the bottle as she took a gulp from it too to show him she wasn’t afraid to do so. He smiled back. Mitchell walked heavily into the room and George stood up from Terry’s chair as he heard him.

"And how are we doing, Tereza?"  
She wanted to press this man’s face into the staff toilet so badly.

"We are doing well thank you."

George stood behind Mitchell and, unknown to him, pointed to Mitchell’s wig. Terry saw it and fought not to giggle, not even to grin. But she was a good actress. Mitchell turned around suddenly and George quickly put his hand down and smiled at him.  
"Don’t you have work to be doing, Lowgin?"  
"Yes, Mitchell, I do… Mr. Mitchell…"

Terry coughed a bit to overplay her giggle. She found that Lowgin to be a very interesting man. He seemed to be a git … but a lovely one. George put his hands in his pockets and walked back towards his desk before sitting down on his chair. The chair collapsed underneath him - Steve had taken half the screws out. It was a game they played on each other constantly. Mitchell normally missed these shenanigans and thought the chair really did break. He was mostly worried about a lawsuit. He quickly walked out of the room before he saw whether George was angry or had various broken limbs. Terry covered her mouth again and ran to George.

"Are you okay?" she asked, not really believing what she just saw. George covered his face and laughed hysterically.  
 **"STEVE, you bastard!"**  he yelled.

Terry felt dumbstruck. She was worried he had hurt himself badly as she realized it was just one of these jokes again. Her mimics changed and she went back to her desk. George groaned as he sat up. He really did fall quite badly. He looked at the pieces of chair around him.  
"Steve, where did you put the screws?!"  
"Where you put the safety pins!"  
"I’m quite sure they are not in that place!"  
"They so arrr!"

George stood up and went to the other end of the office and grabbed another chair. He pulled it to his desk.  
"Well I’ll tell you where I’ll shove them next time.."  
"I can imagiiiinne!" yelled Steve.

George pouted with a grin as he tapped his keyboard to do a bit of work. The work was mind-numbing, utterly mind-numbing. He had a brilliant mind but when he was doing work that he loathed, he couldn’t make himself focus. He soon looked out the window and wished he wasn’t at work. Terry was the exact opposite. Soon she found the work to be satisfying enough to be doing it as properly as she could. She literally disappeared behind her stack of folders. George started to tap the keyboard rhythmically as he typed what he had to. His mind had a melody in its head and his fingers wouldn’t stop producing it.  
"Ye should better do ye work George." said Steve who sat down at his desk after having gotten himself a new coffee.

George looked up.  
"Hmm?" he hadn’t even realised he was producing any rhythm.  
"Ye can play the piano at home!!" said Steve clapping on his desk.  
George looked at his hands.  
"Oh was I doing it again? Sorry.."

Steveleant over his desk.  
"Between us two, ye should better keep an eye on her.. I don’t kno but… I don’t think she’ll always shut her trap about what we’re doing here."

**George looked over at Terry.**

**"Ahh she seems okay.. a nice girl.. she has a naughty sparkle in her eyes.."**

"I’m not sure George…"  
George shrugged.  
"Naah she’s fine.. I’ll keep an eye on her but I doubt she’ll turn against us."  
"Also.. she looks like one of those who’ll stop us playin’ round with the inventory!"  
"You mean an honest soul who will stop us stealing pens? Yes, perhaps.. " George still looked at Terry, trying to gauge her. "She won’t be a Graham though, I can tell… she may look straight-laced but.. that girl is not straight-laced."  
"Show me otherwise……."

George looked at Steve-  
"It’s her first day, what am I supposed to do!"  
"Dunno… tease her or sth"

George narrowed his eyes in thought.  
"A prank?"  
"Yeah"

He sat in thought for a second. He didn’t want to make her feel bullied. But in this office, a prank was as good as a welcome. He stood up and walked to the kitchen, and boiled the kettle. When it was boiled he poured hot water over the coffee he’d placed in a mug, and then added a spoonful of salt. He walked over to Steve and whispered.  
"Salty coffee?"  
"Peeeerfect"

George looked at the coffee mug. He had a feeling this was going to backfire. He walked over to Terry.  
"Fancy a coffee?"

Terry wore glasses when reading and was highly concentrated. She looked up and into his brown eyes. George looked at her and then looked at the coffee. He took a sip and hid his disgust.  
"Cos if you want one, I’ll make you one."  
"That would be nice of you." she smiled at him.

He smiled back and walked to the kitchen, telling Steve to shut up on the way. He poured the tainted coffee away and made two fresh, clean mugs, before placing one on her desk. Terry smiled even more.  
"Thank you that is lovely"  
"You’re welcome." he smiled and walked back to his desk. He sat down and looked at Steve, who smirked at him.  
"And? I can’t wait for her reaction!"

George sighed and leant on his desk.  
"I didn’t doooo it… " he frowned.  
"Wha- WHY? YE SOFTY NOW? OR WHAT!" he whispered.  
"NO!" he whispered back. "I just got the feeling she wouldn’t take it well, that’s all.. it’s her first day, I don’t want to make her feel unwelcome.."  
"Geooooooooooooooooooooorge.. even Ratbag got salty coffee! Do it god damn.. ugh.. then prank her differently.!"  
"Ratbag was a Ratbag! Terry seems nice.. " he sighed "I don’t think pranking is the way to go, not right now.. let her be here for a bit. Getting her in on a prank, perhaps.. Graham has had it easy for a few days.. " Just on cue, Graham Johnson walked into the office. His hours were slightly different. He wiped his nose on his jacket and sat down, placing his items very neatly on the desk in front of him.

"Speaking of whom.."

Terry got up and walked over to George.  
"Hi uhm could.. could you help me for a second?"  
George turned around from looking at Graham.  
"Oh, yeah, sure" he stood up. "What’s up?"  
"I need a hand" she smiled.  
"Well which one would you like, I have two.." George winced at his own humour. "Nevermind.. what do you need doing?"

She grabbed his hand and moved him through two rooms. Why she grabbed his wrist she didn’t know, it was reflex. She pointed at the top of a shelve then she stretched herself up.  
"Could you lift me up there shortly? The ladder is broken and I have dirty shoes. I must quickly look through some folders and you wouldn’t know which one if you looked for yourself. It’s just a second.", she bit her lip.

George looked at her, mildly perplexed.  
"S-sure, yeah.. erm.. how should I do it?"  
"Grab me by my waist. It’s fine, just grab it. I must look at the very top."  
"Right.. okaay.. well, let’s try it.. " he pushed her forward a little so they were closer to the shelves, and turned her around, before lifting her up by her waist.  
"Higher!!" she giggled as she almost reached the top. "Do you manage? Am I too heavy?"  
"No, no you’re not too heavy.. " he lifted her higher. He panted a bit, it wasn’t that she was heavy, it was that he was a very slimly-built man. She grabbed for three folders and went through them. Steve entered the room and as he saw them two he went to George and whispered into his ear.

"Make her sit on ye shoulder buddy, so ye won’t collapse hehehe."  
 **"Fuck.. off.."**  he panted back.  
"There ye can easily look under her skirt hehehe." he whispered and teased George as she accidentally put her hand on his head.

"Oh ohhh I’m sorry. I think I’ve got what I wanted."  
"Piss off!!" George whispered to Steve. He realised Terry had spoken to him. "Oh, right, okay.." he slowly lowered her down and turned her as he did so. As she landed, they faced each other and he looked down at her.

He could feel her breath on his nose as he put her down.  
"Th-thank you. Woo.. what a height .. I’m all shaky now" she blushed a bit. "You’re pretty strong, lifting me up."

He looked at his arms.  
"My skinny limbs must be deceptive.." he smiled  
"I cannot evaluate since you’re wearing a shirt." she smirked as she turned her waist towards the door.

He looked down at his shirt.  
"Yes.. it’s a shame.."  
"Indeed." she winked at him as she left him standing there.

**George exhaled sharply and put his hands on his waist, turning around to watch her leave.**

 

—

 

Ricky felt the old hair dropping from her shoulders. She remembered Bastie had gone.  
"Oh dear, are you going to have to clean all this up yourself?"  
"Seems like it" he smiled "But that’s okay. I do it even better than he."  
She laughed a little  
"Yes, I can believe that.. teenagers never quite manage to do a full job of any task.."  
"Wish I were his age again." he smirked "Now tell me lovely Ricky, how come such a pretty girl like you wants shorter hair when there seems to have been years of patience letting it grow? That lovely hair!"

She looked at him in the mirror and smiled-  
"Oh it’s the upkeep.. it’s such an effort, and it never will stay up in a proper hairdo, no matter how hard I try!"  
"Maybe you just do it wrong. Hadn’t I already started cutting… I would have shown you possible and easy ways to wear an updo in vintage style like a woman of the Edwardian Era."  
"You know how to do that?"  
"Yeessss." he smiled brightly.  
"How wonderful.. you must’ve had a lot of training to know these things!"  
"I had a lot of freetime when I broke my leg once and wasn’t working for half a year" he winked.  
"You must be a lot of productive than me.. when I broke my leg I just read half my bookcase." she smiled.  
"What books do you read?"  
"Oh all sorts, really.. crime, romance.. classic, modern. Plays, operettas. Anything I can get my hands on."

He finished the basic haircut and went with his fingers through her hair again. His fingertips sort of massaged her head.  
"Do you like steps? Or will straight do?", he asked rather professionally.  
"A little bit of layering would be nice, if that’s okay.." she closed her eyes. It felt rather good.  
"Okay. Then let’s quickly wash your lovely hair. Do you want to take a curl back home before I sweep them away? As a memory?" he laughed. She laughed too.  
"No, no.. I’ll resist the temptation to buy a memento mori locket and keep it inside.."  
"As you say. Then come on over here and lie down, the back of your head place >here<. I’ll quickly sweep the hair away. Tell me if the water is too hot I already turn the tap on. Must quickly check the chequebook since I forgot the price for the cure I put into your lovely hair and uhm, a moment please I quickly lock the door, it’s getting darker outside, I don’t want other people to think I’m still open, I closed five minutes ago." he rushed from one thing to another, was working hither and thither and didn’t make the impression to be a tiny bit exhausted:  **What a man!**

Ricky felt mildly uncomfortable as the sink really hurt her neck, but, true to her nature, she didn’t complain. She also just realised that he had locked them in. He came back and felt the water that was already pretty hot.  
"Ouch!!! Why don’t you say a thing dear!", he lifted her head up and held her neck with his cold hand while bending down, grabbing a towell.  
"I’m putting this under so it’s not that hard for you. Okay."he placed himself behind her and put the cure on his hands, then he massaged it into her hair. He knew several dreamy massages.  
"For you, just the best.", he massaged from her temples up to the back of her head. Circling.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. It felt so good. She tried not to get turned on - the man was obviously gay, what would be the point of getting turned on?  
"Mm.. did you learn this when you broke your leg too?" she grinned.  
"I simply seem to know what feels good." he smirked with a soft voice. "We also used to have a radio in here but Bastie broke it. Then I brought a vintage grammophone with me, .. wasn’t a good idea either. It played a few songs until it rusted away due to the foggy air in here. Mostly I sing myself ever since."  
"Oh what a shame about the grammophone.. so, you sing?"  
"Indeed a shame. It was priceless. I inherited it but I was too silly then.. I learnt from it though." he massaged around her ears and down to her neck with one hand while holding the brush in his other and with soft movements he flushed the cure out of her hair. That was cure #1, then followed cure #2.

"I sing yes.", he said inbetween his movements. "Can you still lie dear? Or is it getting uncomfortable?" he asked as he bent over and looked her in the eyes the other way round.  
"No, I’m fine.." she smiled as she looked in his eyes. "What sort of music do you like to sing?"  
He smiled and sat back down putting the 2nd cure onto his hands and started to massage it in with slow movements, and a little more tender than before. It smelled like roses.  
"I sang much when I was younger but my heart beats for the old things you know." his eyes drifted into the nowhere as he spoke "Old songs. From before the 50s. But I am also a huge admirer or Operas and Operettas."

She almost sat up because she wanted to look at him - she was amazed, and really excited, to hear that he loved opera and operettas.  
"Really?! Oh marvellous.. that is so wonderful.."  
He laughed and had to pull her back a little.  
"Let me quickly flush this out." he said softly. As he did he put a pink towell around her head and without even using a bracket he tightened it around her head.  
"Let’s go back to your seat." he held her arm and led her back. His shower was dangerous because many older women fainted since the blood couldn’t run through their veins when they lay there as he washed their hair. As she placed herself down again Patrick went to the windows and closed the curtains. All floral - only saying. She prodded the towel so it didn’t fall sideways. She was rather fascinated by him. She wanted to ask him so many things but she didn’t want to pry. It’s not normal that the customer is interested in the hairdresser. He rubbed her head with the towell to dry her hair and bent down again looking in the mirror.

"All messy, just as I love it. Now comes the cooooomb" he said excited, because it was a new one he never used before. She was the first. And it was a vintage one.

"From the 20s" he beamed.

She looked at it in the mirror

"Oh it’s beautiful.. tortoiseshell?" she asked.  
"Ivory." he said and coughed a little since he was against animal abuse. "But I couldn’t resist."  
"Oh.." so was she, in principle. "Oh well, at least it’s not new ivory"  
"At least it didn’t die for nothing because I’m using it now.", he put her hair back and slid his fingers along her neck.

She swallowed.

"Mm, yes.." she cleared her throat and snapped out of it "Yes, true. I always say I’m going to give up leather, but.. nope."  
He laughed and coughed, put the back of his hand on his mouth as he turned his head slightly to take some fresh air.  
"You alright?" she looked at his reflection.  
"Well" he laughed as he started combing her hair like a little girl would comb her doll "I’ve never seen it this way but, in >that< case I should give up leather myself."

She smiled.

"It’s easier said than done, you’d hardly where any shoes."  
"So you talk about shooooes" he smirked.  
She grinned at him. If she knew him better she would’ve said “Oh yes, shoes I can give up but my dominatrix suit must stay”.. but as he was a virtual stranger, she refrained.

"Yeeees.. "

He smiled at her as her shorter hair hung down.

"Your hair is really lovely. Not too thick, not too thin. I’d love to braid picktails but unfortunately I haven’t even half an hour so  I must hurry up a bit. I just cut a little of the ends of your fringe and a little of your back again and then we can blow it up." he always used to joke like that.

She smiled.

"Not too much, I’ll look like a 50s Barbie doll"  
"They were edible did you know?  Made of Gingerbread" he smirked and winked at her while his hands cutted along in a secure way.  
"Yes, I’m sure she got eaten a lot.." she stuck to her risqué pun.

As he finished cutting he offered her to blow-dry her hair herself or he would do it.  
"Would you mind doing it for me?"  
"Certainly not, I’d be delighted to do it. I just have customers who don’t like me doing it. Then I mostly sit down and read the article they just started reading" he smiled at her and took the hair dryer. He turned it on.  
"Is that okay? Or hotter?"  
"No, that’s fine, thank you" her cheeks flushed as the hot air hit her. She so rarely used a hair dryer herself, she wasn’t used to it. He combed along her hair and put it in a nice position while the hot air supported it. The round comb made her hair look silkier the dryer they got. As her hair dried she looked at herself in the mirror. Patrick really had done a great job, she really liked it. He turned the dryer off and put it aside. Taking a little bottle of conditioner that he sprayed on her hair from 30 centimeters distance, just a little bit should reach her actual cut. Then he stood behind her again looked in the mirror whether >he< liked what he did and slid his palms over her foredhead back to her hair and then with his hands through the whole. Loosened the hair up a little to make it fall smoother. He exhaled and nodded to himself. Good job. He untied his apron and threw it behind the counter and went with his fingers through his own hair. He sweat a lot. His shirt was drenched in sweat and below his arms were marks to be seen. He untied Ricky’s cape and also threw it behind the counter. He put the broom next to the mirror and dismissed her from her place. He went to the chequebook and leant on the counter, playing with a curl of his hair as he summed his actions up in his head. Addition was his specialty.  
She picked up her bag and walked over, taking out her purse.

"How much do I owe you?"  
"Let’s see in total we are at 35, but it’s Monday, it’s pretty late, I’m sure you have been working all day and rushing here not to miss your appointment, …", he breathed loudly, leaning his chin on his hand "…and it’s been your first time so I give you a discount. 20 will do."

She smiled.  
"Thank you, very kind." she took out 20 and put it on the counter. "I’ll be back for some trims soon, if that’s alright."  
"Any time dear. Any time" he smiled and walked with her to the entrance. Taking his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.   
"And you really like it?"  
"I love it, thank you" she smiled and turned to go. She turned back. "Oh, Patrick?"  
"Hm?" he was about to shut the door to.

She chuckled at what she was about to say.   
"If you like vintage music and operetta.. don’t neglect Ivor Novello. I know he was a hopeless romantic, but his songs are quite beautiful." she smiled sweetly and left, putting her bag on her shoulder.  
  
Patrick started to smile.  
 _"We’ll gather lilacs in the spring again..”_  he tuned in the melody.


End file.
